When Science Found Hell | Part 2
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Four years. That's how long it took Democrats to ruin our economy and plunge our southern border into anarchy. Who helped them hurt us? Ruben Gallego. Washington could have cut taxes for Arizona families, but Ruben blocked the bill. And his fellow Democrats gave a bigger break to the millionaire class in California and New York. They played favorites and cost us billions. And Ruben wasn't done yet.

We'll be right back.

Carrie and the Republicans will secure the border, support our families, and never turn their backs on us. Carrie Lake for Senate. I'm Carrie Lake, candidate for U.S. Senate, and I approve this message. Paid for by Carrie Lake for Senate and the NRSC. Church's original recipe is back. You can never go wrong with original. Still tastes the same like back in the day. Right now, get two pieces of chicken starting at only $2.99 or 10 pieces starting at only $10.99. Church's. Offer valid at participating locations.

Blue eyes and matted curls are buried face deep in the belly of an infant. Chet turns and all the beer and liquor of the day joins the muck as he throws up over and over. It all tastes very salty. "Daddy said to listen," a small voice says around a mouthful. "So I listened. I'm a good girl." "Oh, fuck," Chet says as he throws up again. The sound of the little girl chewing and chewing makes his stomach cramp even worse.

but he's got nothing left. Though he stands there, hunched over, his hands on his knees, as he thinks of what to do. "Can't call 911," Chet says to himself. "They listen," the little girl says, taking a break from snacking on her infant brother's innards. "They always listen." "Good for them," Chet says. He stares at the swirling mess at his feet. The maraschino cherry jar bobs in the water and goo and puke.

"Okay, okay," Chet says and stands up. He takes a deep breath as he avoids looking over at the little girl. "Okay, what do I do?" There's a loud crash from inside the bar. "I'll go see what the fuck Leo is up to," Chet says with fake resolution in his voice. "Yeah, that's what I'll do." He finally steals a look at the little girl and manages not to gag. "I don't think you need a babysitter, so I'll leave you here," Chet says.

The little girl looks up at him, blood dripping down her chin. She smacks her lips. "You're gonna listen soon too," the little girl says. "I listened because I'm a good girl. Be a good boy, Chet. Be the best boy you can." "Fucking freak," Chet mutters and walks off. He slogs his way through the muck to the bar's front door. As his hand touches the door handle, he hears sloshing from behind him. Chet turns slowly and then presses his back to the door.

What the holy fuck? He whispers. What did you call me? You fucking drunk bitch! The little girl shouts. She is wading through the water and dragging the corpse of her brother behind her. What did you call me? Tell me!

Chet shakes his head and closes his eyes. No, he says. No, no, no. This isn't happening. None of this is real. It's all in my head. That's it. I finally broke. Went full nutso like they said I would. Just a matter of time, they said. Fucking hell. I should have listened to them. I should have listened. Chet's eyes shoot open. The little girl is standing right in front of him. The dead infant, dangling from her hand like a ragdoll.

"Fuck you!" Chet says and laughs. "You almost got me! You had me telling myself to listen!" Chet wags a finger at the little girl. "Nice try, you fucking little freak!" The little girl grins up at Chet, her face coated in blood with bits of intestines. "My daddy said you'd fight," the little girl says. "But we'll get you soon enough, you fucking drunk bitch!" Chet gives the little girl two middle fingers, then turns and grabs the door handle.

Before he can pull it open, his legs are knocked out from under him as he feels something slam into the backs of his knees. Chet collapses onto the ground. Gunk and water splash up around him. "What the fuck?" He snarls and tries to stand up. But before he can get his hands under him, his head is rocked and slammed down into the muck. "You have to listen!" The little girl says as she brings her dead brother up over her head for another blow. "Everyone has to listen!"

The little girl brings the infant corpse down onto Chet's face, and his head slams back into the mud. "Fucking stop!" Chet yells. His hands shoot up to grab the little girl. Chet grips her throat and squeezes, but his hands are too slippery, and the little girl squirms free. Then she slams the infant corpse down onto Chet's face once more. "Stop that!" Chet roars and finally gets up onto his feet.

He brings his right leg back, then kicks out hard. The sole of his boot landing right in the middle of the little girl's face. The little girl falls back on her ass. She loses her grip on her brother's corpse, and it floats slowly away on the muck and water. With a bloody face and big blue eyes, the little girl looks up at Chet.

"I'm gonna tell my daddy you did that," the little girl says. "Your daddy is fucking dead," Chet shouts. "Took a load of buckshot to his-" Chet is yanked backward, dragged inside the bar, then thrown halfway across the room. He slams into a table and cries out as he feels a rib snap. Stunned and hurting, Chet's hands find an upright chair and he pulls himself up onto it. "Don't you touch my girl," Billy says from the bar's doorway. Chet shakes his head over and over.

"Nah, nah, no way," Chet says. "You're dead. So fucking what, loser?" Billy snarls. "Yeah, so fucking what, loser?" The little girl says from just behind Billy's legs. "What you gonna do to him, Daddy?" "Fuck him up," Billy says. "You gonna make him listen?" The little girl asks. "You know it, baby girl," Billy says, and quickly closes the distance between him and Chet.

Chet is lifted up out of the chair and held a good two feet off the floor. His broken rib screams, but that's the least of his worries. Billy has him by the throat and is squeezing hard. Black dots begin to swim in Chet's vision. "You gonna listen now, you fucking drunk bitch?" Billy asks. "You better!" The little girl screeches from beside her daddy's legs. For some reason, Chet's eyes are drawn to the TV. On it, he sees a city on fire.

Then it cuts to a mass of people all fighting. Then it cuts to a government official being strung up on a light pole as bloody police officers scream up at him. Then it cuts to "That's enough, William," a voice says from the bar door. "Put him down." "He ain't listened yet!" Billy shouts. "No, he hasn't," the voice says. "But he will, just as you should." Billy's hands squeeze tighter, and Chet can feel the life leaving his body as the world around him slowly goes dark.

"William, are you listening to me?" the voice asks. Air races into Chet's lungs as he lets go and falls to the floor. Coughing and gagging, Chet scrambles backwards on his hands and feet until his back hits the bar wall. The shotgun has fallen from his belt and is at Billy's feet. The huge man bends and picks it up, cracks the breech, pulls out the spent shells, then closes the breech and throws the shotgun behind the bar. "Now, Chester," the voice says,

"Chet!" Chet croaks through swollen vocal cords. "No one calls me Chester!" "That may have been Chester," the voice says. "But it is not now." "What the fuck does that mean?" Chet asks. He's looking for the source of the voice, but sees no one in the bar except for Billy and his little girl. "Where's Leo?" Chet asks. "Over there," Billy says and points at the shattered jukebox. "I needed a snack to get right, be able to listen again."

Chet looks over at the broken jukebox. If he'd had anything left in his stomach, it would have come rushing out. Leo's body was nothing but ribbons. Just tatters of flesh barely held together by tendon and sinew connected to broken bones. Chet's attention is torn from Leo's mangled remains to a shadow moving by the bar door. With a numb resignation, Chet watches the shadow slide across the wall toward the bar.

Then the shadow is a man, and the man is pouring a pitcher of beer. "Come, Chester," the shadow man says. He sets the full pitcher of beer on the bar, then reaches back and plucks a glass from the shelf, setting it next to the pitcher on the house. "I'm good," Chet replies. "Gonna rest here for a bit if you don't mind." "William?" the shadow man says. Billy stomps to Chet and picks him up like he's a toddler.

The actual toddler laughs and giggles and points as Chet is carried over to the bar and slammed down onto a stool. "Fucking hell!" Chet gasps, holding his ribs with his left arm. "No need to be so rough, William," the shadow man says to Billy. "Now, you and your girl go have a seat in the corner. I'll call you if I need you." "Can we eat 'em after you're done?" the little girl asks. "I'm still hungry."

"Don't be a glutton, you little shit," the shadow man says. "Go have a seat, or I'll shove you up your father's ass. Are you listening?" "Yes!" Billy and the little girl say in unison. They turn and walk off to the corner. Billy sets a table and two chairs upright. The little girl climbs into one of the chairs, looks at Chet, flips him off, then lowers her hands and looks toward the bar door. The little girl cries.

"Hello, baby," the skinless body of Billy's wife says as she saunters into the room, her hips swaying like she's walking a red carpet or catwalk. "Miss me?" The little girl starts to get down out of the chair, but Billy grabs her arm and shakes his head. "You have to listen," Billy says. "Sorry," the little girl replies. "Come and sit, baby," Billy says. He reaches out and grabs another chair, then pats the seat as he sets it upright.

Such a nice family, the shadow man says, and Chet's attention is ripped away from the gory, familial scene. We all have plans in life, maybe to take a cross-country road trip or simply get through this workout without any back pain. Whether our plans are big, small, spontaneous, or years in the making, good health helps us accomplish them.

At Banner Health, we're here to provide more than health care. Whatever you're planning, wherever you're going, we're here to help you get there. Banner Health. Exhale. What is this shit? Chet asks the Shadow Man. Miller High Life, I believe. The Shadow Man says and checks the tap handle. Yes, it says so right here. Miller High Life. A champagne of beers! Billy and his family shout.

"Is it now?" the Shadow Man asks as he pours a glass for Chet. "Catchy." "Fuck catchy!" Chet snaps. "What is all of this shit? What the fuck is happening? Who are you? What do you want with me?" "I shall answer the last question, since it is the only answer that matters, Chester," the Shadow Man says. "I want you to listen. That's all. Just to listen."

"Yeah, I have been listening," Chet says. "I listen to the storm roll in. I listen to fucking cats and dogs falling from the sky. I listen to Billy's fucking story about killing his family." "Don't worry about us, hon. We're just fine," Billy's wife says. "Like fucking hell you are!" Chet shouts. "Don't be rude," the Shadow Man says. "Rude? Are you fucking kidding me?" Chet yells at the Shadow Man.

The Shadow Man nods his head at the bar. "Drink your beer, Chester." Chet shakes his head over and over. "Drink it," the Shadow Man says. "It'll make you feel better. You know it will." "Fuck you," Chet responds. "I said fucking drink the beer!" The Shadow Man roars. The little girl screams and starts crying. Billy reaches over and snaps her neck to shut her up.

The little girl's body slumps across the table. Her mother reaches out and pats her head, then shrugs at Billy. Didn't mean to scare the little shit, the shadow man says and snaps his fingers. The little girl sits back up and smiles over at the bar, her head lopsided and partially resting on her shoulder. Drink the beer, Chester, the shadow man says once more. He slides the full glass closer to Chet. Drink, he insists.

Chet tries to study the Shadow Man's features, but there's nothing there. Only shadow. But the more he stares, the more he senses something. He doesn't see it so much as starts to hear it. "This is bullshit," Chet says and picks up the glass. Then he remembers and looks about. "Salt?" "No salt, Chester," the Shadow Man says. "You don't need salt with the champagne of beers." Chet sees the shaker and snatches it up before the Shadow Man can stop him.

He upends the shaker over the glass, and a good amount of salt pours into his beer before the Shadow Man slaps it away. The shaker flies across the bar and shatters against the wall. "I said no fucking salt, Chester!" the Shadow Man screams. Then he reaches for Chet's glass. But it isn't the first time Chet's had someone try to take a drink from him. Chet lifts the glass and downs the beer in two gulps. He slams the empty glass onto the bar and smacks his lips.

"I drank the beer like you asked," Chet says. "Looks like I listened." "That is not listening," the Shadow Man says. "I told you no salt, yet you put salt in your beer. That is the opposite of listening." "That's what they said in the army right before they kicked me out," Chet says. The Shadow Man shakes his head and pours another beer. "Drink this one, Chester," the Shadow Man says. "I'm all full," Chet says and bats his belly.

He winces and grunts as a sharp pain peels through his rib. "Drink," the shadow man says, "or I tear your right arm off and feed it to Billy's little shit over there." "Arm! Arm!" The little girl crows. "Shut up now, sweetheart," Billy's wife says, then smacks the little girl across the cheek. "I'm good," Chet says. "Yes, that's the problem," the shadow man says. "A little too good, I think."

Chet frowns at the Shadow Man. "What does that mean?" "It means instead of having you listen, I think I'll have you talk," the Shadow Man says. "But first, we need some music. Leo, can you take care of that?" "Leo?" Chet asks. "Have you seen what happened to-" Before Chet can finish, the sound of broken glass and plastic mixes with a wet sucking noise.

Chet slowly pivots on his bar stool and stares in horror at the dark corner of the bar. The shattered jukebox, as well as the shredded, eviscerated, and mostly consumed corpse that used to be Leo, are slowly merging into one monstrosity of plastic, glass, flesh, and bone. When finished being assembled into an abomination,

Request!

Juke Leo asks. Its voice a squawk of musical notes and horrific pleas for the pain to stop, all rolled into a tone of subservience and regret. "Tammy Wynette!" Billy shouts. "No, no, no," the shadow man says. "I'm thinking something a little more subdued." He snaps his fingers and Juke Leo screams. Then music fills the bar's speakers. Chet sits upright, ignoring the pain in his rib. "I know this song," Chet says.

Yes, you knew. The Shadow Man says and slides the full glass of beer to Chet. Drink. I'd rather have champagne, Chet says then frowns. Why'd I say that? I don't know, Chester. Why did you say that? The Shadow Man replies and taps the glass with a long, sharp fingernail. How about you drink and find out? It is the champagne of beers, after all. No, Chet says. I shouldn't drink.

Since when does a drunk not drink? Billy shouts. Juke Leo chuckles and cries. This song is from something, Chet says. I know it. Do you now? The shadow man says. He leans forward, his elbows on the bar, his chin resting in his hands. Why don't you tell me all about it, Chester? I can't, Chet says and shakes his head. No, I shouldn't.

You should, you should, the shadow man says. Unburden yourself. One hand moves from his chin and slowly reaches for the glass of beer. The hand slides the beer an inch closer to Chet. Then it slides it another inch. But you should drink first, the shadow man says. Drink, drink, the little girl says. I said shut up, sweetie, Billy's wife says. Billy, please shut her up.

Billy rips the little girl's head off and throws it toward the bar. The hand the Shadow Man had been using to inch the beer closer to Chet shoots up into the air and catches the little girl's head. Then it sets it down on the bar facing Chet. "Drink, you fucking drunk bitch!" the head says. "Fuck!" Chet shouts and shoves himself up from the bar stool. The Shadow Man's other hand grabs Chet by the shoulder and forces him back into the stool.

"Hush now," the shadow man says to the little girl's head. "Or it's the blender with you." "Fuck," Chet says, his eyes straying to the old and dusty blender sitting behind the bar. "Just one sip," the shadow man says to Chet. "That's all I ask, just one sip, and then we can talk and you can tell me all about yourself." An echo fills Chet's head. "Tell me all about yourself," is the refrain he hears over and over.

"What's wrong, Chester?" the Shadow Man asks, pushing up from the bar. "You're getting that look in your eyes." "I do not like that look, Chester." "Whatever you are thinking about, stop it right now." "Tell me about yourself," continues to echo in Chet's head. Then it's joined by, "We need to get to know each other if you're going to stay here." "I'm not staying here," Chet says out loud.

"Motherfucker!" The Shadow Man shouts. "Well, this sucks balls!" Billy says and gets up from his table. "We almost had him." Billy's wife says. "I blame Leo!" The little girl's head says. "Fuck you!" Juke Leo replies, his voice filled with plastic and bile. Chet looks around in disbelief. Billy and his skinless wife are walking toward the front door.

"Don't forget to take this," the shadow man says and throws them the little girl's head. "We'll reset in 15." "Got it," Billy says as he catches the head and opens the door for his skinless wife. "That's a fucking hard 15, William," the shadow man yells. "Not 20, not 25, fucking 15. I heard you!" Billy yells as he walks out of the bar. "What is happening?" Chet asks.

"Fuck off, Chester," the Shadow Man says. "You are nothing but a pain in my ass." "A little help?" Juke Leo calls out. "Right, yeah," the Shadow Man says and snaps his fingers. Juke Leo is torn apart into a million different pieces, then all of the pieces slam together, leaving a repaired jukebox and a repaired Leo in the middle of the bar. "Any notes?" Leo asks the Shadow Man.

Leo lifts his arms over his head and stretches then twists from side to side. "Because I have one, Billy gets to be the fucking jukebox next time." "I don't understand." Chet says. "You fucking would if you drink the fucking beer." The Shadow Man yells. "Without the fucking salt!" Leo adds. "That!" The Shadow Man says and jabs a finger at Chet. "No fucking salt next time!"

"I don't really like salt in my beer," Chet says, frowning. "Of course you don't!" The Shadow Man yells. "No one does! It's fucking weird! People who do that are fucking weird! So stop it!" "I don't know," Leo says as he comes around the bar. "I liked salt in my beer before I moved here." "Moved here? Is that what you're calling it?" The Shadow Man asks. Leo shrugs. "You're a fucking little weasel."

The Shadow Man says then sneers at Chet. "You too, asshole. A fucking little weasel making everything harder than it has to be." The Shadow Man looks up at the ceiling. "You hear that, fuckheads?" He yells. "You're just making this harder than it has to be. I know you can hear me. I know you can see me. You think we aren't aware of your fucking technology up there?" The Shadow Man uses air quotes when he says technology.

"Where do you think the idea for television came from?" The Shadow Man continues yelling. "Us, you fucks! So keep watching while I fuck your guy up here!" Chet looks up at the ceiling then glances at Leo. "Who is he talking to?" Chet asks. "Screw you, bitch!" Leo says. "Don't act like we're friends. We're not. We've known each other since high school, Leo." Chet says.

"Are you fucking joking with that shit?" Leo asks and laughs. "I never laid eyes on you until yesterday, dipshit!" Chet grunts and rubs his face. "No, that's not right. I was at your first wedding. Whatever." Leo says and sighs. "Is the 15 up yet? Can we get this reset started?" "Sounds good." The shadow man replies and snaps his fingers.

Thunder and lightning rage over the bar that sits just three miles past the county line, out on rural Highway 7. The parking lot is gravel. The paint is chipped and missing from most of the walls. A neon sign flickers off and on, barely bright enough to fight the cloudy gloom. A beater pickup truck sits in the parking lot, which is quickly turning from gravel to a mud puddle with rocks in it, high above. Deep in the clouds, a dog howls with fear.

Inside the bar, the TV blares the news headlines silently as old country classics echo out of the tinny speakers of the ancient jukebox in the corner of the bar. A lone man, haggard and mean-looking, sits at the bar sipping whiskey from the bottom of the well while the bartender leans his back to the bar and studies the news scroll running across the silent TV. "Science finds hell," the bartender says, echoing what the news scroll is reporting.

How's that even possible? My thoughts exactly, the lone man says. It's like a vegetarian stumbling across a barbecue joint. So what? Ain't nothing gonna come of it because... The lone man pauses. The bartender looks at him. Something wrong? The bartender asks. The lone man looks down at his glass and shakes his head. I don't know, the lone man says.

"Ready to switch to beer?" the bartender asks. He doesn't wait for an answer and goes to the tap and pours a glass, then sets it in front of the lone man. "Here you go, on the house." "Wow, Leo, thanks!" the lone man says. "No problem, Chet," Leo replies. "Unfortunately, we're out of salt." "Why would I put salt in my beer?" Chet asks. "Huh? Oh, you wouldn't," Leo replies.

"Fucking shit, Leo!" A shadow yells as it pulls itself away from the wall. "Why'd you even mention salt?" "Huh? Why?" "Shit. Sorry." Leo says just before the shadow snaps unseen fingers and Leo explodes into a bloody mess. "Reset!" The shadow screams. "Reset?" Chet asks. "What the fuck has happened?"

Thunder and lightning rage over the bar that sits just three miles past the county line out on rural Highway 7. The parking lot is gravel. The paint is chipped and missing from most of the walls. A neon sign flickers off and on, barely bright enough to fight the cloudy gloom. A beater pickup truck sits in the parking lot, which is quickly turning from gravel to a mud puddle with rocks in it. High above, deep in the clouds, a bullfrog croaks.

Inside the bar, the TV blares the news headlines silently as old country classics echo out of the tinny speakers of the ancient jukebox in the corner of the bar. A lone man, haggard and mean-looking, sits at the bar sipping whiskey from the bottom of the well while the bartender leans his back to the bar and studies the news scroll running across the silent TV. "Science finds hell," the bartender says, echoing what the news scroll is reporting.

How's that even possible?" "My thoughts exactly," the lone man says. "It's like a vegetarian stumbling across a barbecue joint." "So what? Ain't nothing gonna come of it because those are two different worlds." The lone man downs his whiskey and sets the empty glass on the bar, tapping it with a finger. "Fill 'er up, Leo," the lone man says. "You sure, Chet?" Leo asks as he wipes a glass with a rag. "Maybe you should switch to beer."

"You my mommy now?" Chet snaps. "Fill the glass, Leo." "About that," Leo says. "Missy has been up my butt about bar tabs this week. I'm gonna need you to pay up first." "Seriously?" Chet responds. "Since when is Missy worried about me paying my tab?" "Since you stopped paying your tab," Leo says. "What the fuck ever," Chet says and digs into his jeans pocket.

He pulls out a bunch of loose change and wadded up bills, then slaps them onto the bar. "Here you go, asshole. Keep the change." Leo cringes as he counts out the money. "Why is this five all wet? Gross!" he says. "What?" Chet asks, and looks at the money Leo is counting. He sees the five that Leo slips from the bar top and into the till. A red streak is left behind. Leo looks down at the bar, then wipes the red streak away with his rag.

"That only covers today's drinks, Chet," Leo says, pulling Chet's attention away from the bar top. "You have to settle up sometime, you know. Pay your tab in full, not just drink by drink. Tell Missy to bill me," Chet says. The storm outside gets worse, and the wind nearly rips the door off its hinges as a man yanks it open and then struggles to yank it closed again.

Loud flops and croaking can be heard just before he slams the door shut. The man yells. Chet says, and points up at the TV where an image of a man being burned at the stake fills the screen. Leo adds.

Damn scientists should have left hell alone, the huge man says as he walks to the bar and plops down onto a stool. Give me a pitcher of high life, Leo. No bourbon today, Billy? Leo asks. Did I fucking ask for bourbon? Billy snaps. A pitcher is what I asked for, and a pitcher is what you'll pour me. Shit will help me finish it.

"Stickin' to the rock, dud," Chet says and lifts his glass. "Beer gives me the shits unless I put salt in it." The vibe in the bar turns to ice. Chet looks back and forth between Leo and Billy. "What? What'd I say?" Chet asks. "You two are acting like you've seen a ghost or something. What's up?" "Nothing," Billy says and laughs a weak laugh. "Just not like you to turn down free beer." "Not feeling like mixing booze today," Chet says.

"I'm gonna stick to this shit, thank you. We're all out of salt anyway," Leo says. "Motherfucker." Billy mutters and gets up off his stool and walks out of the bar. "Reset!" A voice roars from the corner of the bar. "Sorry!" Leo yells. The storm outside gets worse, and the wind nearly rips the door off its hinges as a man yanks it open and then struggles to yank it closed again.

Loud flops and croaking can be heard just before he slams the door shut. "Holy fuck! It's literally raining frogs out there!" The man yells. "Have you two seen this shit?" Chet sits up straight and whips his head around to look at the man. Then he looks back at Leo, the bartender. "Did you guys just feel that?" Chet asks. "Nope." Leo says and pours a bourbon, then sets it in front of the barstool the huge man quickly occupies. "Here you go, Billy."

Billy says and sighs as he settles his bulk on the stool. He picks up the drink, sips it, then nods at the news scroll on the silent TV hanging behind the bar. The image on the screen is of the aftermath of an earthquake. Hundreds of bloody and broken bodies are littered in the rubble of a demolished city.

Then the image switches to a crowd of people throwing stones at a teenage girl, before cutting back to the anchorwoman, reporting on the chaos that has taken over the world. "Science should have left Hell alone," Chet says and finishes his whiskey. He taps the glass. "One more, please, Leo." "Yeah, sorry, Chet, but I'm gonna have to ask you to pay up first," Leo says. "Misio's been up my butt about bar tabs this week.

"Don't sweat it," Billy says and downs his bourbon. "I'm switchin' to beer. Pour a pitcher for me and Chet, will you, Leo?" "You payin'?" Leo asks. "I'm payin'," Billy says and claps Chet on the shoulder. "You don't mind, do you, Chet? Never been one to turn down free beer," Chet replies. "That's a good man," Billy says and gives Chet's shoulder a squeeze.

Leo pours the pitcher and sets it in front of Billy, then places two glasses on the bar. Billy pours the beer and slides a full glass to Chet. "Drink up, pal," Billy says and stares at Chet. "Thanks," Chet says, then lifts the glass to his lips. Then he sets it back down. "Got any salt, Leo?" "No," Leo says quickly. "What's behind you?" Chet asks, nodding at a dusty salt shaker on the counter right behind Leo.

"Sugar," Leo says. "Looks like salt," Chet says. "Hand it over." Leo pauses and looks at Billy. Billy sighs and shrugs. "Here you go," Leo says, and hands the salt shaker to Chet. Chet pours a healthy dose of salt into his beer, then drinks half the glass before setting it down and frowning at Leo. "I think the tap lines need cleaning," Chet says. "I'll tell Missy," Leo replies.

"You guys will never guess the day I had at work," Billy says. He turns on his stool and faces Chet. "You know Amy Everett, right? Big rack and a lazy eye, yeah?" Chet says and sips his beer. "I know who she is. She came into work today with her underwear on the outside of her clothes," Billy says. "She wearing a G-string?" Leo asks and laughs. "Let me finish the fucking story, Leo," Billy snaps.

"Yeah, Leo. Let him finish the fucking story." Chet echoes with a laugh. "Fuck you guys!" Leo says, then goes over to the small dishwasher and pulls a rack of clean glasses out of it. "I'll just be over here working. You two have fun." "You're a bartender." Chet says. "It's your job, dumbass." "Can I finish my story?" Billy asks. "You barely started it." Chet says. "Go ahead."

"So anyway, she comes in with her underwear on the outside of her clothes like nothing is wrong," Billy says. "And I forgot to mention, she was three hours late. Crazy shit is happening these days," Chet says, and tips his glass up at the silent TV, showing drone footage of a mob with pitchforks and torches in hand, chasing a bunch of stockbrokers down Wall Street.

"You can say that again," Billy says. "So, Amy comes in and sits down at her desk. I don't know who called him, but soon, Hal comes out of his office and marches straight over to Amy's desk, demanding to know what she thinks she's up to." "Reasonable question considering," Leo says. "I got a question," Chet says. "Yeah, what's that?" Billy asks. "Was she actually wearing a G-string like Leo asked?"

"'Cause I've seen that ass of hers around town, and I've never seen no panty lines.'" "'Yeah, she was!' Billy exclaims. The three men laugh and laugh. "'Anyway, Hal is pissed off and demanding to know what Amy thinks she's doing,' Billy says. "'And do you know what Amy does?' "'Do tell,' Chet says. "'She picks up her stapler and throws it right in his face,' Billy says. "'Breaks his fucking nose right there.'"

"Jesus!" Leo says. "Is Hal alright?" "I ain't finished!" Billy says. "Pour me another first!" Chet says after finishing his beer. Billy does so. Chet picks up the salt and pours the rest of the shaker into the beer, then takes a drink. "Ah, that's the stuff! Bitch!" Billy mutters under his breath. "What's that?" Chet asks.

I said then the bitch stands up and grabs Hal by the hair and slams his head against the corner of her desk over and over and over until his skull is pulled. Billy says. Chet pauses as he's about to sip his beer. I assume Hal ain't alright then. Chet says. Fuck no he's not alright. Billy says. The guy is dead as a doornail. Holy shit. Leo says. Did someone call the police?

"We tried but 911 is down," Billy says. He nods up at the TV and at the violence and depravity that is being shown. "And I bet it just ain't around here. Looks like no one is coming to save the world now." "Makes sense," Chet says. "This is what happens when you fuck around and find hell." "No truer words have been spoken," Billy says. "So what happened?" Leo asks. "Did she attack anyone else?"

"No, she sat down and got to work," Billy says. "We all stared at her. Then some folks left. I stuck around because I had a reward to." "You stuck around?" Chet asks. "Why the fuck would you do that?" "Oh, I left a mess at home that morning that I didn't want to deal with yet," Billy says. "I didn't clock out until it started raining frogs." Billy smiles as Chet finishes his beer. "Or you another?" Billy says.

Don't mind if I do, Chet says. Gonna need more salt, though. Leo and Billy share a look. I'll check in the back, Leo says, and steps out from behind the bar and walks to a door against the far wall. Drink up while he gets the salt, Billy says and pushes the fresh glass of beer over to Chet. I'll wait, Chet says. The beer is really off. I don't know how you're drinking it. I haven't noticed anything, Billy says and takes a drink.

"Tastes fine to me." "Not to me," Chet says. "I'll wait for the salt." Billy nods and sips his beer. "So, you left some sort of mess at your house?" Chet asks. "What kind of mess do you leave that makes you want to stay at work with a crazy woman?" "Funny you should ask," Billy says. "Let me tell you all about it." The General rubs his face as he stares up at the blank monitors bolted to the walls of the control room.

"He's holding up still," the general says when he's finished rubbing his face. He places his hat back on his head and looks at the scientist standing next to him. "How long has he been down there now, Dr. Grieg?" "84 hours," Dr. Grieg replies. "His vessel pierced the seventh circle of hell after 60 hours."

"He's been in this one circle for 24 hours?" the General asks. "Yes, General," Dr. Grieg says. "He's the only pilot that's made it even remotely this far. The others were lost within a matter of two or three..." "Yes, yes, I know the stats, Doctor," the General says. "Tell me something I don't know. Like, how are we even seeing this bar scene? It can't be real, so how in the he-" The General clears his throat. "I mean, how in the heck are we seeing what he's seeing?"

"To be honest, we don't really know, sir," Dr. Grieg says. "We have theories." "We need more than goddamn theories!" the General shouts. "We need answers! We finally found Hell, and we need to know everything about it!" "They're letting us see it," a woman says from behind the two men. "What do you mean by that, Dr. Lender?" the General asks. "I mean that Hell is letting us see what they are showing to Captain Dwyer, General," Dr. Lender replies. "It's the only explanation."

"And who is they?" the General asks. "We believe the parties involved are minor demons and servants of Hell that have been tasked with corrupting Captain Dwyer." Dr. Lunder says, "Minor demons of Hell?" The General snorts and laughs. "What makes you say that, Doctor?" "If I may?" Dr. Lunder asks and leans forward, indicating she needs the two men to move. "Please," the General says, stepping aside.

Jesus Christ! Wrong zip code. But yes, Jesus Christ.

"The one behind the bar has been identified as Ezekiel," Dr. Grieg says. "We found an exact likeness in the Catholic Church's database." "It was good of them to share their resources," Dr. Lunder says. "You say that without knowing what we had to give up to get them to cooperate," the General says. "And the one sitting next to Captain Dwyer?" "William Corvo," Dr. Grieg says. "That does not sound very demonic," the General says.

"We think he's a human that has risen up the ranks," Dr. Lender says. "He's not in the database, but facial recognition pulled him up from the Illinois DMV files. He used to trade commodities in Chicago before he killed everyone in his office, his entire family, and then himself. You may have heard of him." "Why would I have heard of him?" the General asks. "He was the one that hung his family from the holiday decorations for all to see," Dr. Grieg says. "This was about a decade ago.

"That's him?" the general asks. "Was he the man that tied one end of a rope around the chimney and the other end around his neck, then jumped off his roof when the police arrived?" "That is him," Dr. Grieg says. "He also skinned his family alive before stringing them up," Dr. Lender says. "His wife, his four-year-old daughter, and his infant son." "Terrible," the general says. "No wonder he's in hell." The general frowns as he looks at the main monitor.

"What's happening now?" he asks. "It appears they are arguing over salt again, sir," Dr. Grieg says. "Captain Dwyer's subconscious must have figured out that salt is a protective agent while in hell." "Amazing," the general says. "It's unfortunate the other pilots didn't figure that out, except I do have a question." "Yes, sir," Dr. Grieg replies. "If salt is protective, then why do they have it in hell?" the general asks.

"It's metaphorical, sir," Dr. Lender says. "Nothing in hell appears to be real. We believe that's part of the power of the place. It's all an illusion." The General shakes his head. "Well, I'm glad your team is dealing with this and not me," the General says. "Keep me updated." "Yes, General," Dr. Grieg says. Once the General has left the control room, a flood of assistants hurry into the room and sit down at their stations.

"Alright people, the presentation to the brass is over," Dr. Grieg says. "Let's get back to work." "Oh shit," Dr. Lunder says and points up at the monitor. "Their boss is back, and he's not happy. As long as Captain Dwyer holds out and doesn't drink the beer without salt, then he'll be fine," Dr. Grieg says. "Too late," an assistant announces. "He just drank the beer without salt." Everyone stares up at the monitor and waits.

Damn.

on the monitor, the Leo demon, the Billy demon, the Shadow Man, and the now lost Captain Dwyer all link arms, then take a bow before staring out at the monitor and flipping everyone off. The monitor goes pitch black. The room holds a collective silence, then Dr. Grieg says, "I'll let the General know. I'll go prep the next pilot," Dr. Lender says and laughs. "I do not see what you could possibly find funny in this, Doctor," Dr. Grieg snaps.

"Just something Captain Dwyer said." Dr. Lender replies, "This is what happens when you fuck around and find hell."